


Choices

by akire_yta



Series: prompt ficlets [336]
Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Breaking Things, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 10:54:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8203039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: anon requested: “don’t you dare walk away.” - Scott and Alan? ( bet scott has said that to all bros during arguments or when they are upset and wants to fix it!)





	

**Author's Note:**

> found this one that got missed in the archiving process, whoops

“Don’t you dare walk away!”  Scott’s so angry he can feel his heart pounding against his chest, the way his nose is flaring with each snorting breath.

“Or what?”  Alan’s still angry too, but his flame is tempered by an exhaustion which is visibly weighing him down.  His uniform isn’t fitting right, bunching and stretching across his shoulders with the way he’s stooping slightly. His wrists and neck seem thinner than they were a month ago.  “You’ll chain me to my bed?  Or to my Thunderbird?  I need space, Scott.   I need time.”

Alan’s not yelling, and that throws Scott off-script.  Whenever he needed to haul one of his brothers back on-track, there was yelling, and with Gordon a few not-so-brotherly fists, and then pie in the kitchen and normalcy in the morning. That’s how this went.  Scott had learned the technique from his dad. “Fine, but you’re on call come midnight, so…”

Alan cuts him off with a furious, sharp wave of his hand, the flat of his palm slicing through the air light a knife.  “No, Scott.”

Scott’s uniform feels grimy against his skin; it’s been back to back to back, nothing but rescues, and all he wants is a hot meal and a comfortable bed.  “What do you mean, no?”  He tries to get this argument back on script.  “You’re…”

“Out.”  It’s a flat word, a single syllable delivered like a slap.  Alan blinks, like he’d just heard himself, then he nods, small and decisively, and begins wrestling the chest piece of his uniform off, movements made clumsy by fatigue.

Scott can feel that his jaw has dropped open, and he forces himself to shut it with a snap.  “Allie…”

Alan throws the exo-piece of his uniform on the ground between them.   _It should have been a glove_ , a hysterical, exhausted part of Scott’s brain comments.   _That’s how this goes_.  “No, Scott.”  The piece of Alan’s uniform has landed logo-side up, and Scott can’t help but stare at the thin scratch across the paintwork.  That hadn’t been there last week, he was sure of it.  “I don’t know how long I’ll be, Scott, but I need…” Alan sounds exhausted, and frustrated with the world in ways beyond anything a teenager should feel.  “Time, and space, and distance.”

“When will you be back?”  The words sound far away, and Scott forces himself to look at his baby brother.  

There are dark circles under Alan’s eyes, but Alan’s gaze is steady, his chin held high.  “I don’t know Scott.  I’ve never…” he shook his head.  “I never got the choice, Scott.  I need to go out, and see what I’d pick if I had a choice.  I’m sorry, Scott,” he added gently.  He nodded once, like he’d said all he intended to say, and turned away.

Alan’s footsteps are loud on the floor, but Alan doesn’t slam the door.  Scott stands there for a long time before finally bending to pick up Alan’s discarded uniform.

He sets it safely on the counter and opens the refrigerator door.  There was half an apple pie waiting there.

Scott swallowed against the bile in his throat and gently closed the door.


End file.
